


Getting Inked

by D_Marx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Tattoo, inked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:05:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Marx/pseuds/D_Marx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right after BUaBS. Dean and Sam arrive in a town with concerns, but no demons on their tail. They decide to get something out of the way before the next hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Inked

_Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. If I did? Well, there are naughty stories containing that I'm sure._

"That's pretty naughty." Sam and Dean chuckled. It died down after a while, and Sam pulled out his medallion. "This symbol, whatever it is, it doesn't have to be on metal, does it?" Sam shook his head no, staring at the item with interest as if to memorize it.

"This can be taken off, Dean."

"Yeah, I know." They were coming into a smaller down, population ten thousand, seven hundred and two citizens. It wasn't on the list of their most obscure hideouts, only a hundred miles from Duluth, but they were getting tired. They pulled into a cheap motel and Dean turned off the engine. Sitting there for a moment longer, they didn't speak right away.

"Do you see what I see?" Sam was looking off into the distance at a grungy building a block away. There was a neon sign above the entry that said, 'Neil's Ink Parlor' and Dean took note while pulling his necklace out.

"Opportunity. Lets do it." The two paid for their room and walked the short distance to a diner for a quick bite. They'd get the job done after they got some food in their stomachs. After finally having gotten back to their kind of normal, Sam found himself starving and Dean had been malnourished with worry. The shock had begun to wear off and they were hungry.

The waitress, Donna, was meandering around in her dirty white shoes and pink with white uniform. Her not small form and wrinkles suggested that she had no further plans for the night and found herself in the midst of the graveyard shift. Two pretty boys were going to be her highlight of the night. She didn't mind that Sam's arm had fresh burns on it, nor that they were both sporting some pretty hefty bruises. They just looked like boys coming away from a fight. "What'll it be, boys?" She didn't bother to smile, which was fine with them. Most nights they didn't really feel up to anything but shop talk.

Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother's hesitation, both waiting for the other to speak. "Go ahead," he said. "You had a rough week." Sam cleared his throat and ordered a cheeseburger, fries, more fries, and water. He asked if they served beer.

"You look like you need one, honey. I'll bring a couple for you two."

Dean had the same with less fries and more pie. Donna left without much more than a "coming right up" and the two were left alone. "Mmm, pie," Dean added. Sam nodded, a little numb. "You up for this tonight, Sammy?"

"Hmm? Yeah, no problem. Just a little tired."

"You've been out for days, doing crappy stuff and not eating. That'll drain you right." The beer came first, and the two opened up right away. "Thanks, ma'am." They drank simultaneously.

"You're welcome, boys. Your food'll be out soon." And they settled in for silence until she was out of earshot.

"Tattoo of a protective symbol. Sounds bold." The medallion was in Sam's hand as he took another drink.

"Yeah, why didn't we think of this sooner?"

"Because you get nervous around needles, Dean." With a shrug, Dean took another swig.

"Hence, the beer. I'll get over it. Honestly, with all the crap that's been happening lately, we want to be possession free from now on. I'll be glad when I don't have to search all over for you like I did dad. I mean, seriously, you're becoming more like him every day."

"I was hoping you'd not say something like that. I don't think he's ever been possessed." Dean shook his head no, but he had to think about it every once in a while. Their dad was too smart to get himself taxiing a demon for any amount of time. Dean hadn't had to worry about it until he and Sam started hunting together.

"Nope, just gone missing. The usual stuff. We're gaining popularity, note. It's just a surprise this is all happening right now of all times. Just gotta keep our heads in the game, minds focused and all that. Getting harder to be us, right?"

"Don't know. The tattoo's a good start, in any case." Donna came back with their orders and two more beers, and saw the medallion.

"You boys fixing to get a tattoo?" Dean smiled and nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. Matching with Sammy, here. Brother stuff."

"Well, don't go and tarnish your good looks too much, lot of fine looking men missing in this world because of ink." The two smiled and she smiled back, "Enjoy your meal." They nodded and she left them to clean her tables.

"We shouldn't go for the arm tat. Demons wouldn't mind removing that part of our bodies."

"Back?" Dean shook his head no.

"Closer to home, you suppose?"

"Chest. Sounds like fun."

"Hey, Sammy, chicks dig scars and some get really hot over ink. I've seen some really flipped chicks, man." A smile and a swig later, they were trying to fight down their wolfing appetite but fell into silence anyway.

They paid, left a tip for their doting waitress, thanked the crew for the chow, and headed next door for the second half of their night. In all honesty, this was one of their smartest plans, and they'd had quite a few of those. Their line of work called for a serious solution to a problem. If you can't keep a necklace from falling off your neck, look for the upgrade. This protection symbol wasn't leaving for a long, long time.

Dean called as they walked in. "Anybody home?" A man with a towel and a piercing tool stepped in from the back room, dropping the holer into a bucket of peroxide. Clean tools, clean place. Tons of useless symbols littered the walls and suddenly Dean was apprehensive.

"What's on the menu, boys?"

"What's with the 'boys' theme tonight?" Sam muttered. Neil shrugged and Sam went to remove his medallion but was stopped by his brother. Dean sent him a look of slight panic and anger, shirt gripped in his hand, and Sam gave an apologetic shrug.

"Don't you take that thing off until we're done here, Sammy. I'll not risk that again." A nod later, Dean released him and gave the tender the medallion, "We'd like matching tattoos of this symbol, left on torso, black, about three inches." Neil stared at the two and took a minute to stare at the item.

"This is some old stuff, ain't it?" The two nodded. They didn't care to be dishonest to a man who got paid to work with needles. "Well, give me a few minutes to draw it out. Who's first?" Dean smiled then and patted Sam's shoulder.

"Sam's first. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible." A nod later and the two were checking out the other symbols on the wall. Everything from Betty Boop to zombie faces was on display, Antelopes and religious symbols and superheroes. Sam was pointing out the good representations and the horrible knock-offs. There were a few that were right-on, and Dean nodded and listened to his brother. Even a few obscure familiars they hadn't expected. There were some they expected, a charicature of Lucifer, fire and brimstone, one with a cigar and a wink. A chill went down their spines as if they were worried they'd meet up with the guy some day.

Not even a nervous chuckle left them at the thought of coming up against the Prince of Darkness. It was a 'No way in Hell' moment they shared.

"Well, if what we've seen is real, why haven't we come up against the guy?" Sam shook his head.

"I don't want to know. But if we do, you know it won't be something we can stop from happening." Dean nodded, and a few minutes were up and Neil was ready for them. Dean pushed Sam towards the back room and Sam, sensing his brother's apprehension, walked willingly into the room with the chair. He had a seat and Neil started to clean his tools. He told him to relax. Ten minutes later he was hunched over the younger Winchester, carving a masterpiece. Dean took his seat within direct vision of the work. The first pokes were the most awkward, Sam wasn't afraid to admit, but afterwards it wasn't that hard to just let his body relax while the man went on his path.

After only a few gasps of surprise, Sam had been quite compliant and seemed to settle into the groove more, Dean noted. Maybe this wouldn't hurt as much as he imagined. But, he reasoned, his brother was more fleshy, a little more lanky, but he was going to be made of wood by the end of the year the way they were going. With more muscle like himself Dean knew he would probably feel a little more pain. His brother was slowly becoming as cool as him. He looked pretty awesome with a gun or whatever, flailing it to go through a ghost or spirit. The determination and resolution in his eyes while on the hunt was blood borne, a part of him that was slowly becoming more obvious in his movements.

Almost as cool as him, but they were ass-kickers. It was part of the job description.

A while later, Sam was patched and done and standing up. He stretched his legs and trying not to wince at the discomfort but it did slip. Dean watched him slip on his shirt, tender arm first. It wasn't that painful-looking, and he stripped the shirt, taking a seat. Neil smirked at his somewhat scarred chest, asking what he'd been tussling with. "Heh, not obvious? Demons." A short laugh later and Neil was hunched over him as well.

They did pretty well, even when Dean started humming Metallica for a short while. Sam sat where Dean had been, to watch. And to make sure Dean remembered why he was doing this. The humming stopped and he suffered through the pain until it was all over.

They paid for the ink and thanked Neil for his detail. "You two take care, don't let the demons get you down."

"Hey, what's that one? Next to the Ankh," Dean asked Neil. It looked like a Celtic maze.

"That? Just a pattern some chick brought in one day. Said something about Hecate's Wheel. Supposed to aide in moving on or something." Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"Does it work?" Neil shrugged.

"Probably not, but it's not New Age. Old school stuff, some people get it right. Don't forget to use plenty of lotion to keep it from flaking, and when it does, don't pick it, damn it." The two nodded and left, proud of themselves and their lack of passing out.

"Feeling good about this one, Sammy." His brother nodded and they headed back to their motel room, where they immediately showered and collapsed from exhaustion.

Fin.


End file.
